Page 82 of Steel Beauty

I glance toward the door, an idea sparking, and turn back to him with a grin. “How spontaneous are you feeling right now?”

“What have you got in mind?”

Instead of answering, I grab his hand and pull him to his feet, leading him outside without hesitation. The rain falls steadily, a cool drizzle that cloaks the world in mist. As we step onto the deck, the fresh, rain-soaked air greets us, and we’re instantly soaked. He laughs, the sound full and unguarded, as I tug him farther into the open.

I lift my arms to the sky, spinning slowly, letting the rain wash over me, its coolness invigorating, wiping everything else away. When I glance back at him, he’s standing there, watching me with that warm, familiar smile, rain dripping down his face.

“Dance with me.” I laugh as I reach for him.

He doesn’t hesitate, his hands sliding around my waist as he pulls me close. His touch is warm against the chill of the rain. We sway together, our movements unhurried, guided by the rhythm of the rain. My laughter blends with his, the world around us fading as we move. His fingers trace gentle circles against my back, and though we’re soaking wet, it doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters but this moment.

For a moment, we pause, our eyes locking in a way that makes the rest of the world melt away. His hand moves to my face, gently brushing a rain-soaked strand of hair from my cheek. Before I can catch my breath, he leans in, his lips meeting mine in a kiss that feels as natural as the rain falling around us.

The world fades into a blur of gray, the steady rhythm of the rain our only soundtrack. It’s just the two of us, drenched and completely wrapped up in each other, holding on like nothing else matters, like there’s nowhere else we’d rather be.

He lifts me up in one swift motion and I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist, holding on to his strong body. He carries me to the dining table and sets me down gently on the cold, wet surface, sending shivers through my body as it touches my skin.

Dressed in only a T-shirt and underwear, my soaked shirt clings to my body, revealing every curve. He carefully pulls down my lacy panties and settles himself between my legs. With a soft stroke, he enters me, and we both let out a primal moan of pure joy. Our bodies meld together, giving ourselves over to the intense pleasure that engulfs us.

Our bodies move in perfect harmony, the union of our souls igniting a fiery passion. In that moment, nothing else exists but us as we give ourselves over to the intense pleasure coursing through our veins. His hands grip tightly on to my hips, pulling me closer as we lose ourselves in each other’s embrace. As he moves inside me, time stands still, and the rest of the world disappears

“You feel so fucking good,” he says, looking down at me.

He pushes my legs, bending them at the knees and spreading them apart. The table groans beneath us as our bodies move together in a flawless rhythm. His strong body presses against mine, each deliberate thrust sending waves of pleasure through me. In this moment, I’m utterly lost in sensation, lost in the feel of him filling me with slow, powerful strokes. Our pace is deliberate and unhurried, drawing out every moment of ecstasy and creating a delicious friction that brings us both to the edge of ecstasy.

He meets my gaze and leans in, pressing his lips against mine. Our foreheads touch as he moves in and out of me at a deliberate pace. “Please don’t stop,” I whisper, knowing that I never want this feeling to end.

His hands press firmly on my hips, keeping me still as he comes inside me. His strength and intensity take me deeper than ever before.

As our bodies merge, his hips come to a halt, and he draws me nearer. His lips, warm and inviting, press against mine. “Fuck, I can’t get enough of you.”

JC leans in, his fingers gently moving my wet hair from my face. Our gazes connect, and suddenly the world seems to narrow to only the two of us. In that moment, I realize something.

I can’t get enough of him either.

What’s going on with me?

Chapter19

Alex Sebring

The roarof the crowd washes over me, and it’s like stepping back in time. The scent of fresh-cut grass and the charged hum of anticipation stir memories I thought I’d buried, now rising to the surface with startling clarity.

I settle into the stadium suite, my eyes drawn to the field below. Familiar faces surround me—former teammates and industry big shots—laughing, sipping drinks, and swapping stories. Once, this was my world. These were my people. But now, the suite feels more like a fishbowl, their polite nods and sidelong glances tightening a knot in my chest. They all know why I’m not out there anymore—or at least, they think they do.

Most chalk it up to bad luck—a freak accident or the inevitable toll from brutal years on the field. But the truth is far uglier. Tyson McRae ended my career with a single calculated, dirty shot. That moment didn’t just shatter my body—it unraveled everything I’d worked for. And no one understands how a betrayal like that rewires everything you thought you knew about loyalty, the game, and yourself.

I can’t breathe.

I cannot fucking breathe.

I school my features and wear the mask they expect—one that says I’m fine, and I’ve moved on. But every cheer from the stands, every familiar sound, every faint hint of fresh-cut grass is a sharp reminder of what’s gone.

And of how much I’ve lost.

“Good to be back, yeah?” My old teammate Nate nudges me with a grin, his easy demeanor a stark contrast to the storm inside me. “Like the good old days, eh?”

No, Nate. It’s not at all like the good old days.

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